Arrival of the Night Rain
by NitnatRide
Summary: Keiichiro's sister joins the group, re-igniting a old spark with Ryou from when they were younger. RyouXOC. Main plot is the same. Mid to high T rating.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE READ OR SEEN ALL OF _TOKYO MEW MEW_.**

**Hey, readers. Okay, just a bit of FYI before you start; I know the ages were different between the Japanese and English dubs, but I still want to alter them a bit. So Ichigo, Mint and Lettuce are 15; Pudding is 12; Zakuro, Ryou and Amaya (my OC) are 18; and Keiichiro is the eldest at 22. I'm also going to call the aliens by 'Kishu', 'Pai' and 'Taruto', as opposed to 'Kish', 'Pie' and 'Tart'. I think their original Japanese names sound cooler. Also, this fanfic starts around the end of episode 16 (the part where Lettuce falls in love with a guy at the library, then finds he loves the receptionist).**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**

**Chapter 1: Me Again**

**Ichigo's POV**

_I think I might drop off to sleep here._

"Come on, Ichigo," Mint's prissy bossiness cuts through my wonderful rest. "No slacking off work until the whole place is done."

"I'd like to see _**you**_ do some of it," I growl, muffling my complaints with my arms, folded around my head against the table, so she doesn't start at me.

"It's okay, Ichigo-san," Lettuce encourages, her soft voice much more pleasant to listen to in my current state. "There's only a little bit more floor to clean, and then we can all go home."

Yes! Home, where my room is, where my _**bed**_ is!

"Alright, then," I push myself up, wanting to climb into bed as soon as possible.

The café was really busy today, and we've all been run off our feet – with the exception of Mint. We all just want to go home, I expect, but we've got to get the café cleaned up first, and it'll be quicker if we all do it together.

Just as I pick up the brush again, the door chimes, and footsteps sound inside the café. We all look towards the door, and Lettuce smiles in apology to the newcomer.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but we've already closed for today."

"Oh, yeah, I know," a female voice says kindly. We peer closer at the girl.

She looks to be about Zakuro-san's age. Her dark, rich, chocolate-brown hair tumbles in incredibly soft waves, swept back in a high-ponytail that tickles just above the middle of her shoulder-blades. Her pale skin contrasts hugely with the colour, and her lips are turned up at the corners slightly, almost unconsciously, giving the impression that her smile is there almost all the time. The colour of her eyes is something I've only seen in grass; grass in high summer, where its hue is the most vibrant.

Her attire suits the summer season too; her lilac-coloured trousers flare out at the bottom over her white sneakers, and the colour goes really well with her black T-shirt with deep purple photos scattered on the design. Across her back is a large rucksack, and a wheelie bag sits at her feet, her hand around the handle.

Not exactly a cute outfit, but she suits it.

"Um," she smiles again. "Keiichiro works here, right?"

"Akasaka-san?" I say. "Sure, he's back in the kitchen." I point in the direction I mean.

"Thanks," she smiles gratefully at me, before walking to the kitchen.

The others and I look at each other, then make a silent unanimous decision and follow the mysterious girl.

She stops outside the kitchen, peering over the half-doors and smiling at Akasaka-san, who stands by the furthest wall, drying the last of the dishes. The girl's expression is weird; she seems relieved, like seeing Akasaka-san has just made everything alright. We stand in awkward silence, totally aware that she knows we have followed her. Finally, she speaks in nothing above a whisper.

"Keiichiro."

Even though I thought he wouldn't hear, he turns towards us at the door, his brown eyes settling on the girl. They widen slightly, then his smile follows suit.

"Amaya," he responds in the same tone. **(Her name means 'Night Rain', hence the name of the chapter. Also, it's pronounced 'Ah-mah-yah'. Just thought I'd clarify that, because I know someone called Maya, but her name is pronounced like the month May.)**

The girl – Amaya, apparently – smiles in return, then pushes through the doors as Akasaka-san quickly sets the dish and the towel down, striding over to Amaya as she drops her bags on the floor ready for his embrace. She's just over half-a-head shorter than him, and I gasp as I realise, when Akasaka-san bends his head over hers, their hair colour is almost a perfect match…

They release each other, and Akasaka-san smiles at her before turning back to us.

"Girls, this is my younger sister, Amaya," he explains, confirming my theory. "She's the same age as you, Zakuro."

"Ah, Fujiwara Zakuro," Amaya-san says, approaching Zakuro-san and offering her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I hope you'll see me as a friend, as opposed to the hopelessly addicted fans that I'm sure you're used to."

Zakuro-san smiles slightly, accepting her hand and shaking it once. "We'll see."

Amaya-san doesn't seem ruffled by her ambiguous answer at all, and merely smiles at the model/actress.

"Amaya," Akasaka-san smiles at his sister, "these are the girls I've told you about, from the Mew Mew project."

He introduces us each individually, telling her about the animals we have been bonded with, and Amaya-san shakes our hands. Mint, Lettuce and I stare up at her, glancing at each other to see if anyone has any idea as to why she's here now.

Footsteps from around the corner break our concentration, and we all turn to the doors again. Shirogane appears around the corner, looking bored and annoyed that we're not working.

"What's going on?" he demands calmly, his eyes closed and his hands behind his head. "You guys aren't finished yet."

I scowl at him, about to scold him for making such a poor first impression on Akasaka-san's sister when I noticed her expression; shocked and disbelieving.

"Shirogane?" she asks, her tone incredulous as Akasaka-san just smirks at her.

Shirogane opens his eyes and drops his hands, frowning at Amaya-san, obviously trying to figure out how she knows him. But he stops, peering closer at her before he blinks in surprise, his mouth opening slightly.

"Amaya?"

She just laughs then smiles at him. "Long time, no see."

"That's an understatement," Shirogane answers, and his tone confuses me, his face unreadable. "Five years, right?"

The two of them share a look. "Yeah," she responds, her voice matching his. "That's right."

He nods. "Good to see you again." His expression suggests he's anything but; he's not even smiling. If I had to use one word to describe how he seems to be feeling, it would be 'disorientated'.

"How come you're here?" Lettuce asks, trying to make it sound like general conversation rather than the burning question that has been on all our minds.

Amaya-san beams at her. "I'm coming home."

"Oh, you've been away?" Mint asks.

"Kind of," Akasaka-san answers, slightly hesitantly. He looks to Amaya-san, and she sighs then shrugs once, almost saying 'what have I got to lose?' silently. Akasaka-san begins to explain. "Six months ago, my sister moved out from our family home to live with her boyfriend."

"Awww, that's so cute!" I sigh dreamily, thinking of living with Aoyama-kun. Through my day-dream haze though, I see Shirogane, who has been looking down and acting bored since greeting Amaya-san, flick his eyes back to her at the mention of a boyfriend. What's up with him?

"Then," Akasaka-san continues, "I got a call from our mother a few days ago, to hear that Amaya was coming home."

A confused and awkward silence spreads across the kitchen, and I look to the others for ideas, but they seem just as clueless; if they were happy, why is Amaya-san coming here and leaving her boyfriend? If they were happy…

"Ohhh," Shirogane says suddenly, drawing the vowel sound out as he realises the same thing I do. He straightens up, pushing himself off from the countertop he was leaning against, looking directly at Amaya-san. "You okay?"

This girl is full of smiles, but her next one seems tighter than the others before. "The million dollar question," she muses. Shirogane raises his eyebrows slightly, but says nothing; he's not the only one to have noticed that she didn't answer his question.

A stray lock of her hair frees itself from her ponytail and drifts across her face, and she raises her hand to brush it aside. At that moment, both Shirogane and Akasaka-san stiffen, staring at Amaya-san. Or rather, staring at her shoulder. She looks back at them curiously, silently asking with her amazing eyes the reason for their actions. Shirogane is the one who reacts; he walks slowly over to her, his eyes never leaving hers until she starts to drop her hand from her face. They flick to her upper arm. Shirogane's gaze rises to her eyes again as he carefully peels back the short sleeve of her T-shirt, bunching it up on her shoulder…and exposing the bruise that I had initially taken to be shadow, four lines clearly tracing where someone had grabbed her. Forcefully.

The other Mews and I glance at each other, shocked, but Akasaka-san, Amaya-san and Shirogane seem calm. Or they're not going insane anyway; it's easy for some people to appear calm on the outside but be furious and torn on the inside. Amaya-san grimaces at first, ashamed and disappointed that she hadn't fooled her brother and Shirogane, but then straightens her spine and raises her head, deliberately pulling her sleeve back down and staring back at Shirogane, almost in defiance.

A silent conversation – or battle – passes between them, blue on green, for a good few minutes before we're all startled out of this tense silence by a phone ringing. By the look on Amaya-san's face, it's hers, and she slowly pulls her phone out of her pocket before looking down at it, checking the caller ID. As she sees who it is, she looks back up to Akasaka-san, and he stares down at her, his eyes unbearably sad, and nods.

"You can answer it," he says, "then put it on the countertop here."

She flips it open, presses a few buttons to put it on speaker, then places it on the counter.

"You're on speaker," he informs the person on the other end of the line. "She's here."

"And just _**who**_ am I talking to, then?" a deep voice answers, practically growling. I can just imagine the owner of such a voice; a beast of a man, both physically and in terms of character. He's raising his hackles because he's heard another male's voice answer the phone of his now _**ex**_-girlfriend, and he's getting possessive. I scowl, even though he's not here to see my disapproval.

Akasaka-san responds casually to this Alpha male, but choosing his words and his tone carefully, as is natural for the sweet-natured poet.

"It's Keiichiro," he smiles, as if greeting an old friend, but there is a hard glint in his eyes that I've never seen before. Then, he drops the bomb for the Alpha male. "Amaya's brother, remember?"

The silence between our group and the Alpha male stretches to breaking point, and I think I'm going to scream before we hear a slight rustling then the hang-up tone. Akasaka-san leans against the countertop, over the phone, and closes his eyes and smiles. This smile is different from his usual kind smile though; it's satisfied, in a grim and dark way.

Shirogane, watching this, folds his arms and turns his mouth up at the corners. "You know, I'm pretty sure _**I**_ taught you that smile."

Akasaka-san opens his eyes, his grin growing wider and more like his own, then winks at Shirogane, who smirks in turn.

"I'm sure he learnt from the best," Amaya-san teases, her eyes sparkling and her smile genuine once more.

Shirogane chuckles, allowing the back-handed compliment. He turns to leave, but seems to think twice and face Amaya-san again.

"Amaya," he calls softly, still smiling.

She had been smiling gratefully at her brother before, but quickly looks towards Shirogane at his voice. They stare at each other some more, seemingly comfortable with silence between them, before Shirogane suddenly steps forward, wrapping one arm around her waist and one around her shoulders, pressing her face into his chest. Her face betrays the fact that she's just as shocked as the rest of us.

"It's good to see you," Shirogane whispers, a lot more enthusiastically than the first time he said it.

Amaya-san smiles again, her eyes closing in contentment as her arms encircle his torso, bringing him closer, too. "You too…"

They separate and gaze at each other again.

"…Ryou," Amaya-san beams.

The Mews and I look at each other, shocked by Amaya-san's use of Shirogane's first name; they obviously knew each other before now, but I had no idea they were this…familiar with each other. Amaya-san used Shirogane's first name, and I never thought I'd see the day when Shirogane hugged someone. They must have been really close when they knew each other, five years ago.

Could Shirogane…?

_No, no way_, my mind immediately gets rid of that idea. _There's no way Shirogane would let someone get _**that**_ close to him. The closest person to him that I know of is Akasaka-san, and even then they seem more like project partners than kick-back-and-relax-together friends._

Shirogane begins to walk out of the kitchen again, and speaks to Amaya-san with his back turned. "You'll probably want a job if you're staying here, right?"

"Sure, that would be nice," Amaya-san agrees, obviously wondering where he's going with this.

"Don't bother looking," Shirogane sounds like his old self again. "You start work here as of the day after tomorrow; that'll give time for you to unpack, get settled at Keiichiro's apartment, and for your uniform to be tailored."

"Uniform?" Amaya-san frowns.

He looks over his shoulder when he's at the door, grinning. "Yeah; you'll be wearing one of those."

Amaya-san's face morphs into a horrified expression as he points to our dresses. His grin widens as he continues.

"This also means that…I'm your boss."

Amaya-san just stands in a daze, staring after him as he exits around the corner, hands behind his head again with his gleeful grin. After a few seconds, Amaya-san breaks the silence, calling after him.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate you?"

Shirogane's laugh echoes down the corridor in response.

**Amaya's POV**

After the café is locked up, Keiichiro takes me home. When I inquire about Ryou's method of getting home – I don't know if he drives or not – Keiichiro tells me that he has a room above the café floor, and any groceries he needs for food are kept in the café's fridges. I frown at the thought of Ryou being so alone and isolated for so long, but keep my introspections to myself.

The car journey to my new shared apartment is fraught with silence, and I have a feeling that Keiichiro is nearly driving himself crazy speculating about what Rick might have done to me these past six months, but I'm not going to breach the subject and give his creative imagination any fuel.

When we reach his apartment, in a quieter part of the city, my brother uses my distracted staring at the modern-looking building to grab my rucksack, brushing off my protests when I realise his actions. I sigh, then take my wheelie bag from the boot of his car and follow him into the building as he unlocks it. Up two flights of stairs then first door on the left, Keiichiro welcomes me to my new home.

It reflects my brother perfectly; on the light but warm beige walls – with the dark, polished oak-wood panelling underneath – a mix of poems he's written and science awards are pinned, some framed. The large oak bookshelf directly in front of me is a neat array of old and new poets and compilations alongside textbooks on the breakthroughs in science, mainly in genetics and archaeological findings.

With the bookcase in front of me, there is a four-and-a-half foot distance between the front of the bookcase and the front-door side of this short corridor area. It opens into a large square area two feet to the left of the front door, at least ten square feet. A leather corner sofa sits in the laterally middle of the area facing a flat-screen TV, on a rug placed a little more over to the wall with the front door. That obviously serves as the living room section of the area, while the table against the furthest left wall – which isn't a wall at all, but an entire window looking out to the city-lights – indicates the dining area. As we walk further into the apartment, there's a door to a room – most likely a bedroom, at the other end of the wall with the front door, against the window-wall. Another similar door is mirrored on the other side of this large area, and at the back of the area on the opposite side to the window-wall, a small but clean kitchen gleams, speaking of all the amazing concoctions my brother has probably whipped up in there.

Keiichiro walks straight to the bedroom at the back of the area, placing my rucksack on the bed there. The walls are of the same theme as the rest of the apartment, another door leads off through the right wall.

"We've both got en-suites," he informs me, "and that's yours, through the door."

I smile gratefully. "Keiichiro, this is amazing. Thank you."

He turns his kind eyes to me. "There's no need to thank me. I'm just doing a brother's duty."

I grin at him before throwing my arms around him and burying my face in his chest. He wraps me in his own embrace and presses his face into my hair, swaying back and forth with me slightly. With a brother like Keiichiro – one so warm, welcoming and approachable all the time – I've always considered him my sanctuary, should I ever need one. And he's been there, without fail, any time I _**did**_ need one. The warmth and love I've always received from him, even now, springs tears to my eyes, but I blink them back and breathe deeply to open my suddenly tight throat, before Keiichiro thinks I'm crying about Rick, for whatever reason.

After a few minutes, once I'm sure I've composed myself, we release each other, and Keiichiro smiles at me again.

"I'll leave you to get settled while I cook us dinner," he says, then leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

Sighing in happiness as I look around the room, taking note of the empty bookcase on the right of the back wall; the bare desk in the middle of the back wall under the window which is now covered by curtains; and the mirrored-door double-wardrobe against the left wall. Flopping down onto the bed just to my left, which is placed in the middle of this wall and faces the window, my line of sight is limited to the ceiling while my mind floats above it.

It was a shock to see Ryou today, after all these years; not seeing someone over their puberty years has the biggest impact on reunion. His sunshine hair still hovers in his eyes in that stylish mess that he gave up trying to tidy as a child. But, appearance-wise, that's almost the only thing about him that has stayed exactly as it was; his stunning aquamarine eyes sparkle with maturity and darkness that was only hinted at when he was thirteen, as does his smile; his face is more equally proportioned with his features, with his jaw and cheekbones more angular, instead of the babyish effect he had before; adolescence has made him more proud of his body, as he shows off his – I'll admit – _**well**_-developed muscles in his tight-fitting sleeveless black top.

His character has half stayed the same and half changed. I remember the bossy and stubborn tone he used when telling the girls to get back to work, and the holier-than-thou attitude that I'm very familiar with. I suppose that's inevitable when he developed an IQ of a hundred-and-eighty-plus before he hit puberty. But now it seems to stem from more than his intellectual superiority; he seems to be saying 'I know more than you because I've seen what real life is. I've seen the stuff you hear about but you really have no clue what it's like.'

That being said, I remember his laugh. His laugh, too, seems darker, but less affected than other parts of him. It's like he finally lets go of his sadness and pain enough to produce the happy sound. From all those days I spent with him before, I recall the times when he was chuckling at me when I was trying to figure something out or understand some complex scientific theory that he was explaining to me; or when he was snickering, taunting me as we chased each other around his extensive garden; or, sometimes, when he was laughing with me at something I'd said, or something we both found amusing or fun…

Either way, I'd wanted to make him smile or laugh as much as possible when I was younger, and I vow to do the same now.

I'll make him happy again…even if it may ultimately be for someone else.

Even if he doesn't feel the same.

ЖЖЖ

I jolt awake, alarmed to feel the restraining hands from my dream – Rick's hands – are here, too. Glancing around wildly, I sigh in relief when the hands are my brother's, holding my arms now then smoothing my hair out of my face when I've calmed down enough. The moon- and city-lights beam through the window, even through the curtains, and the digital alarm clock I set before I went to bed tells me it's almost three in the morning. That'll explain why Keiichiro is in his pyjamas, rather than in his clothes and waking me up to start the day.

Flushing in embarrassment and guilt – despite the cold sweat coating my body – I realise the reason he's in here; I must have been making noises in my sleep. I'd been dreaming that I was trapped in a room with Rick, and all the doors and windows that were in the room disappeared before I could get to them. It was the single most terrifying thing I've ever experienced.

Keiichiro's expression breaks my heart as I look at him again; his eyebrows are pulled together and his eyes are painfully sad. His desperation to help me is obvious within them, a trait we both share; our emotions are easily recognisable in our eyes.

He doesn't even seem annoyed that I've woken him up at this hour, and his selflessness breaks the dam of my emotions. I push back the covers and crawl over to him. Leaning against him in his embrace, I surrender, and begin to sob.

**Sorry for that slightly rubbish ending; I couldn't think of any other way to end it. Anyway, I hope you all like it. Also, I'd like to make an apology to all faithful readers who are still waiting for updates on my other fanfics; I know I shouldn't have started another fanfic, but whenever I get an idea I have to write it down. And I can never resist the temptation to upload it. My apologies.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


	2. DéjàVu

**Chapter 2: Déjà-vu**

**Amaya's POV**

I stare in sheer horror at the contents of the box.

It's now my second full day here, and the day that I'm due to start work at Café Mew Mew. Yesterday was nice; I unpacked everything, added my laptop to the internet network of our apartment so I could connect through the router in the main room, and explored the apartment, seeing what was stored where et cetera. Keiichiro had to go to work, but he cooked me a nice breakfast before he went, and told me to call him if I needed anything.

To my surprise – and secret delight – Ryou visited just after lunch, claiming that my brother was worried so he'd volunteered to come and check on me. He also delivered my uniform for work, and, smirking, made me promise not the open the box until tomorrow. I had glared at him, but swore not to open it.

We spent the next hour or so just talking about anything and everything – except our pasts. Neither of us mentioned Rick, and I never asked about the project, except for the main updates on its progress, as I know where, and with whom, it had all started. Despite that awkward mutual agreement, the tiptoeing around topics, it was comfortable; it was just a conversation between friends, pretending that we'd never separated.

But now, staring down in premature mortification at the contents of that package he'd delivered yesterday in the café's dressing room, all previous good opinions of him have disappeared – however momentarily I grudgingly know that will be.

Grabbing the offending item, bunching up the back of the neckline, I drag it out of the package and into the kitchen, where my brother stands by the cooker, his back to me. I clear my throat, and he turns to see who is gaining his attention. I hold up the dress before he can smile at me in greeting, and he presses his lips together in a failed attempt to not smile at my obvious disgruntled expression. And the reason for said expression.

"You'll look lovely," he grins encouragingly, but his amusement is still evident.

Raising an eyebrow, I look again at the garment, trying to find the 'lovely' part that I seem to have missed. Dress short enough not to reach mid-thigh, check; frills and ruffles everywhere, including on the tiny apron on the front, check; puffed out design to give the dress that 'maid' look, freaking check. The only good part about it is the fact that the colour of the dress matches my eyes perfectly, accentuating their almost unnatural intensity.

Completely _**not**_ seeing Keiichiro's viewpoint, I seize a fistful of skirt ruffles and pull them up to expose the inner lining.

"It has _**bloomers**_!" I cry in outrage, shaking the dress at him to emphasise my point.

"What did you expect? The skirt's too short to have nothing on underneath," Keiichiro can't help but chuckle, infuriating me further. "Oh, come on," he coaxes. "You've hardly ever worn a dress – except ball gowns – since…" He pauses slightly, choosing his next words carefully so as not to mention my past with Ryou directly.

"Since you were a kid," he continues, trying to cover that slip up. "It'll be nice to see you in one again. Besides, you looked lovely in dresses like that as a child, and you looked absolutely stunning in the ball gowns you've worn as a young woman. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

The frills and ruffles still annoy me, but his compliments and only-slightly flawed logic – I didn't look _**that**_ great in the ball gowns and dresses – sway me more to his view. Sensing my hesitation, he walks over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders and smiles directly at me, rather impishly.

"I'll cook your favourite meal at least twice a month," he cajoles.

I pout at his bribery/blackmail combination. But the memory of the taste of his homemade chilli con carne won't leave me alone.

"Make it at least three times a month," I demand, trying to make myself sound more rock-like rather than someone who can be swayed with _**food**_, of all things.

He grins. "Deal," he kisses my forehead. "Now go change."

Sulking at his victory, I duck my head as I walk back to the changing rooms, hoping to hide my shame.

A few minutes later, I've changed into the dress, and I'm standing in front of a mirror in the corridor just outside of the dressing room. Tugging at the skirt, I blush red enough, for exposing so much of my legs, that I look like a freaking Christmas decoration in contrast with the green of the dress. Adjusting the bobble in my hair, I re-sit my ponytail higher on my head before taking another look.

I look like a maid, alright; the frills and ruffles are definitely not my style. And the short skirt just makes me feel uncomfortable; I've never really been proud of my legs, so I've always worn stuff that covers them. This is definitely out of my comfort-zone, and I can feel my shoulders hunch forward and my neck shrink a little in a poor attempt to hide myself. I chew the inside of my bottom lip and rub the skirt material together between my forefinger and thumb to make it whisper and squeak slightly, both nervous habits that I've had apparently since I was a few months old.

Footsteps down the corridor force me into the introductory spotlight before I've prepared myself, and I gasp, whirling to face the source, no doubt with a deer-in-headlights expression. I suppress a groan at the identity of my first audience.

_Of _**course**_, it has to be him…_

Ryou stops short at the sight of me, and grins, his eyes sparkling with a light I know well. I smile back, despite myself, then sigh as I turn back to the mirror.

"I guess I don't have to ask 'That bad, huh?'," I remark. "I have the answer to that right here."

Confusingly, Ryou's expression changes; he suddenly blinks in surprise, frowning at first, then his eyes widen.

"That's not what I meant," he insists, and I start at the sincerity in his voice. "Seeing you in a dress just reminded me."

I don't have to ask what he means; I used to wear dresses a lot when I was a kid, so that's the attire that Ryou often saw me in. Seeing me in a dress now must bring back memories of the days we had together. That part doesn't confuse me. What _**does**_ confuse me is why it makes him happy….

I keep my perplexity to myself though, not wanting to breach subjects like that just yet.

"It doesn't suit me though," I sigh in resignation, "and I don't think there's anything I can do about that."

"I know one way," Ryou disagrees quietly, his tone adding to my confusion; cautious, yet…almost desperate.

I glance at him curiously in the mirror, and inhale sharply in surprise when he walks forward slowly, never taking his beautiful eyes off me, his face unreadable. I swallow, mystified and tense for what will happen next. He stops just behind me, half-a-head taller than me, and I can feel his solid figure throwing off enough heat to warm my back. As I feel my heart doing flips, I try not to let my breathing copy its gymnastics. He doesn't move for a few minutes, just stares at me in the mirror, so still that I jump when I suddenly see his hands rising. They stop at my hair, one grabbing the bobble and the other steadying the back of my head as its partner tugs the hair-tie out gently, careful not to pull on my hair. Suddenly free, my waves tumble down to just above the line between my shoulder-blades, framing my face. Ryou reaches up once more, almost…_**tenderly**_ parting my hair on the left side of my scalp and sweeping the majority of my hair over my right shoulder. Due to its naturally unbelievable thickness and volume, part of the right section slips out from behind my ear, sweeping and brushing across my face and in front of my eye. Neither of us adjusts it. I have no idea why he doesn't, but my excuse is that I'm having an epiphany.

Since I was fifteen, I have always thought that having my hair up in a high-ponytail suits me better, makes me look more independent and mature. Only having memories of my hair down when I was in cutsie little dresses as a young child, this seemed to make sense. And yet, now, even in this dress, which is kind of cutsie, my long hair down, curling and cascading around below my shoulders…I don't look like a child; I look like a woman. A sophisticated and…_**good-looking**_ woman, and somehow it does not take away that independent look. The lock of hair in front of my eye gives me the air of danger and mystery, while at the same time making it seem like I'm on shooting for a hair-product advert. Like I'm a model. Like I can actually stand beside Zakuro and fit in.

Ryou's movement as he turns and walks away startles me back to the present, and I stare after him in bewilderment. I don't expect him to say anything, but he stops near the end of the corridor, still facing away from me.

"You've always looked better with your hair down," he says simply, that strange tone still there.

He continues walking again, disappearing around the corner into the main part of the café, leaving me completely dazed and promising myself to wear my hair down from now on.

ЖЖЖ

The day runs pretty smoothly, actually; I don't drop anything, the customers appreciate both their cakes, drinks and my service. I manage to get quite a sum through tips, and that's just today. Despite the long hours and startling popularity of the café, I find myself enjoying the work and having fun here. Even the thought of doing the clean-up work at the end of the day seems to appeal to me, the atmosphere is that appealing. There's something about working in this place – with Ryou, my brother and my new friends – that makes me think I'll thoroughly enjoy my time here, that there are happy memories waiting to be created in this place. No matter if we have to battle aliens and other monster-stuff at the same time.

Through their antics during the day, I quickly learn that Pudding is the most hyper and the performer; Lettuce is the shy follower who never seems to raise her voice for anything; Mint is the prissy princess rich girl, who expects everything to be done for her; Zakuro needs no introduction; and Ichigo is the slightly naïve love-sick girl, who seems to have a big heart and a lot of courage despite her refusal to confess her feelings to the boy she likes: Aoyama-kun, I quickly learn.

There's only one slightly awkward moment, where I accidentally overhear a conversation between Ryou and Keiichiro, the topic of said conversation being yours truly. I'm just taking a few dirty plates back to Keiichiro so he can wash them, when suddenly Ryou's voice emerges from the kitchen. I stop, curious, considering I haven't heard or seen Ryou downstairs since this morning.

"You look tired," he comments, obviously talking to my brother.

There's a slight pause, almost a reluctant one, before Keiichiro sighs heavily. "She's been dreaming and muttering these past few days."

Another pause. "About her ex? Whatever his name is."

"Rick," Keiichiro agrees. "Yes. She's terrified of him, if the reactions to her dreams are anything to go by."

I bite my lip guiltily; Keiichiro had stayed with me again last night when I had that same dream. He's right, too; the thought of being near him again scares me to no end. Especially now that I've left him; Rick would be so mad, and I'm worried about what he might do if he ever finds me. I suppress a shudder at the thought as I continue to eavesdrop – yes, I admit it – on the discussion.

"Keiichiro," Ryou says, surprisingly softly, kindly. "It's okay; neither of us are going to let anything happen to her, and the girls certainly won't stand by if he does decide to show up. She's safe here, I promise."

"Thanks, Ryou." I can hear my brother's gratefulness, as well as his smile, in his voice.

Waiting a few seconds so it seems more natural and spontaneous, I enter the kitchen cheerfully, dumping the plates next to my brother and telling him to get on with them in a teasing voice. Keiichiro laughs and gives me a mock salute as I stick my tongue out at him. But as I turn back to the door, I catch them both staring at me intently. It doesn't unnerve me though; I feel cherished, loved. Protected. That's really what I need to feel right now; protection.

So as the day begins to draw to a close, and the finishing touches of the evening clean-up are being completed as the sun splashes the sky a vivid orange, I'm humming to myself in content as I drag two large bin-bags from the kitchen out to the larger collection bins just outside. The others are just finishing up inside, Keiichiro is cleaning the last bits of the kitchen, and Ryou has disappeared, probably to his room, to get out of cleaning.

As I heave the two bags into the bin, however, a hulking shadow oozes from behind the bin. Half-hidden by the trees, it takes a while for the cropped black hair, the thick muscular body, the dark glaring eyes and the terrifying sneer to register. As I suck in a gasp, Rick lunges out of the shadows, one huge hand crushing my forearm and the other smothering my mouth.

"Don't even think about screaming," he growls, impossibly tightening his grip on my arm in warning.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that that will suppress everything; the pain, the panic, the frustration, the fear, the rude words….

As I slow my breathing after the initial shock is over, Rick removes his hand across my mouth and loosens his grip on my arm slightly. He leers at me.

"Why didn't you wear stuff like this before?" His eyes rake up and down my body, a shudder slinking down my spine while I curse this freaking uniform into next week.

I glare at him, acting braver than I feel as I desperately look for escape opportunities. "Maybe because I didn't want you looking at me like that, you pig."

A poorly-concealed grimace morphs my face briefly when his hand tightens and his eyes flash dangerously.

"Don't talk to me in that tone," he snarls. "Now, you're coming with me. I'm taking you home."

I roll my eyes melodramatically, over-emphasising the action to hide the fact that I'm really looking around, checking for any escape routes or possible weapons.

"Don't be stupid, Rick," I scowl. "I'm home here, away from you. I left, remember? That means I don't want to see you."

"And that was a mistake," Rick fumes quietly. "If you come with me now, willingly, I'll forgive you. But if I have to drag you…" He trails off dramatically, and the image of my dream flashes through my head.

A small click catches our attention at the same time, and we turn back to the café in the direction of the back door. We listen intently, each hoping for the opposite outcome. I could swear I see a flash of purple for a split second, but nothing happens, so I despairingly conclude that it was my imagination.

"The click was probably the back door closing on its own," I tell Rick. "It seemed heavy enough to do that." I figure if I calm him, he may hopefully relax his grip on my arm. Even if only for the sake of my circulation.

No dice; he turns back to me, his eyes still burning. "You're coming with me. Now."

I glare again in defiance. "If you drag me off, I'll be making a lot of noise, even with my mouth covered. Someone will hear before you've got me to whatever car you've got waiting."

His body begins to shake in fury as he realises I'm right. He leans closer, his breath matching the temperature of his eyes as he breathes:

"If you won't come with me, I'll take one of your little girl waitress friends in there instead."

I gasp in shock and horror, staring at him, unable to believe that he would even _**think**_ something. But as I search his eyes, it's sickeningly obvious that he _**would**_ do such a thing, and I can't let someone else suffer for my own selfishness. I have to take one for the team, even if I've only just joined it. But I have to be sure that he means it before I agree to this.

"You wouldn't do that," I swallow, my eyes closed as I picture him taking little Pudding.

He laughs harshly, relishing my fear and revulsion. "I can do absolutely anything."

"Except," another male voice responds, much more pleasant to listen to, the sound of a saving angel, "take a hint."

Rick and I whirl in the direction of the source, and I almost sob in relief as I see Ryou step out from behind the wall of the café that hides the back door, followed closely by everyone, the Mews and Keiichiro. They all stand as a group, Ryou in the middle with his arms folded, a frosty calm about him. My eyes meet each of theirs in turn, and Zakuro nods once to me when ours land on each other. I must have seen her then; she was the flash of purple, and didn't intervene immediately so she could alert everyone else. I smile at her gratefully. My heart constricts as I look at my brother, his smile in support and a promise of safety, but apologetic that he hadn't got there sooner. I want to fall into his unconditionally-loving arms and weep with relief, pain and any other emotion I can think of.

Rick takes in our audience – his enemies – silently, then curls his lip up in a snarl before tightening his grip on my wrist again, tighter than before, making me gasp in pain as he yanks me closer to him.

I don't even see him move, and by the looks on the others' faces they don't either. One moment, I'm being held hostage by Rick, my wrist screaming as his crazy strength grinds my bones together. The next, I'm free from the painful prison, and Rick is flying back five feet before landing heavily on the ground. Startled, I turn to the side to find the source of this change, and I gasp again, this time in wonder, relief…and déjà-vu.

Ryou has appeared by me, his relative position almost in replacement of Rick. His feet are separated out further than normal, his body is twisted to the left…and his right hand, curled into a tight fist, is hanging across his chest, hovering by his left hip.

He'd punched Rick. Hard.

The silence smothering us is suffocating. My breathing accelerates in panic again as I imagine Rick's explosive response, which will quickly turn into an all-out brawl. Since Ryou's current position mimics perfectly a situation when we were younger – when his sunshine hair and stunning baby-blues made him look like a vulnerable angel – the thought of him going up against burly Rick terrifies me.

But Ryou merely straightens up, tugging his sleeveless top down to smooth it out, staring down at Rick. The abusive man, after smacking to the floor, rolls over, hand against his cheek, and begins to push himself up, his dark eyes creating a void of light in the immediate area even his anger almost crackles in the air. But one look at Ryou makes him freeze, still on the floor. Glancing back at my saviour, my best friend, I can see why; Ryou looms above him, a calm about him that is unnerving, like in the eye of a storm – an eerie and ominous stillness with the threatening flash of lightning and rumble of thunder in the distance. Even Rick isn't stupid enough to test Ryou now, especially not with this many opponents around.

"Word of advice," Ryou says, his voice conversational, as if advising a friend. "Don't come back here. Go home."

His hand gently behind my elbow, he begins to turn me away, bringing me back inside with him, but he stops and turns back to Rick.

"Oh, one more thing." As his lips turn up, finally breaking his calm façade, it's hard to tell if he's smiling grimly or sneering. "If you _**ever**_ threaten one of my friends again, you'll get more than a black eye."

Not even looking at Rick, he turns back again, but the guy has other ideas.

"You're not her brother," he growls, and I tense. He's always been possessive, and now Ryou's appearance and obvious defending must have set him off again. My mind reels with the multiple ideas of revenge running through his twisted head, the methods made worse because of the apparent competition.

Ryou refuses to rise to the challenge, stopping with me halfway to the back door but not facing him. "So glad you noticed," he snipes lazily, his sarcasm evident in his tone.

"The bitch has a new boyfriend already?" Rick snarls, shaking with fury again, even sprawled on the floor.

"No," Ryou replies calmly but immediately. "I'm just an old friend."

"_**Friend**_, huh?" Rick is obvious sceptical as he spits the word like a curse.

Ryou shrugs. "Believe what you want, it's not going to make a difference; no matter what Amaya and I are to each other, the fact still remains that you're never coming near her again."

"Ryou," I breathe, stunned by his certainty and his determination to protect me. Sure, we were close before, when we were kids, but I didn't know that he would defend me like this.

_But there was that one time_, my brain reminds me, and the déjà-vu caused by his punching stance earlier hits me again. He'd defended me that day, too. How had I not noticed just how close to me he acted?

My brain interrupts again. _He's probably done it, both times, just because you're a girl, and he thinks it's his duty to protect you._

My heart sinks as that explanation makes sense. Yes, he probably thinks I'm defenceless, a damsel in distress, and it does wonders for his ego to become the knight in shining armour. And yet, maybe because he _**has**_ saved me, or maybe because of my feelings for him – no matter if they are unrequited – I can't find it in me to pull away from him as he leads both me and the others back into the café, leaving Rick out there on the floor and not checking if he scuttles away. Neither do I; I turn my back to him, never looking back as Rick lies on the floor, away from me. Smiling at my current position, I walk away from Rick and towards my brother and my new friends, abandoning my past while moving back to the café under Ryou's arm.

**Again, sorry if that ending is crap. I just wanted to end on a note like that, where she's walking away from her past while with Ryou. I thought that would be a good effect. Anyway, let me know what you think.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


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